


Call Me, Maybe?

by ClockWorkQueso



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Accidental Text AU, LESS COMEDY MORE ANGST, Multi, TW Suicide mention, Wrong Number AU, and jake's halloween party, goes to junior year, im projecting again, lots of seasonal depression, popular Jeremy au, rewrite of my horrible 2 AM drabble, starts in freshman year, tw suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWorkQueso/pseuds/ClockWorkQueso
Summary: Jeremy gets the weirdest text of his life at three A.M on a Thursday.An accidental text AU drabble that turned into 8,000 words of plot





	Call Me, Maybe?

If you told middle-school era Jeremy Heere that he would become one of the most popular people in high school, he would have laughed at you until his lungs seized up in an asthma attack. Which would, uh, further prove his point. Jeremiah Heere was anything but cool; he liked out of print games, outdated consoles, comic books, porn. All of which amounted to a super-geeky kid who never got a second glance from anybody, least of all his longtime crush Christine Canigula. But.

 

Something changed in eighth grade. 

 

Jeremy got sick of being ignored, of feeling unloved. 

 

It was bad enough that his dad downed copious amounts of alcohol to deal with the fact that his mom walked out on them, it was bad enough that the only attention he got either involved being shoulder-checked into a locker or being screamed at by his drunkard father. 

 

He started taking note of how the popular kids dressed, talked, and acted. He saved up his money to invest in a new wardrobe; he kept up with the current trends. He tossed out his NES, burned his comics, talked less, smiled more. He made himself approachable, friendly. He choked down his anxiety when he hung out with the others, forced himself to enjoy company so that he would be accepted. 

 

Now, at 15, he’s the picture perfect image of popularity- everyone at school knows his name, he gets invited to all the parties, he knows the best hangover cures, he has the best fashion sense. The old Jeremy is shoved away into the recesses of his mind, boxed into a neat little compartment of denial. No one liked the old Jeremy. No one would ever like the old Jeremy. He is Jeremy Heere, new and improved. He would do anything to keep it that way.

What’s not to love? He’s best friends with one of the most social guys in school, Jake Dillinger, who throws the most bangin’ Halloween parties in New Jersey. He’s dating Brooke Lohst, the second most-popular girl in school, beautiful, funny, sweet. Christine is the furthest thing from his mind. He has friends. He’s adored by his classmates. He goes out all the time, away from his emotionally manipulative father. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

So after everything, after all the time he’s spent perfecting himself and his image, why does he still feel _off_?

oOo

Jeremy gets the weirdest text of his life at three A.M on a Thursday. It's sort of a miracle that he's awake, especially after dealing with his father in one of his moods, but his old friend insomnia decided to stay the night, much to Jeremy’s frustration. He'd been texting Brooke until she had been reduced to responding with only emojis in her sleep-deprived state, then Jake, who hadn't replied at all, probably already out cold. He could've tried Chloe, but they aren't the kind of friends who text each other on a whim. He's pretty sure that she dislikes him for some reason, but she's dating his best friend, so she's nice enough.

With nowhere else to turn, Jeremy gets halfway through guiltily typing “porn” in his search bar when his phone buzzes and a notification bar slides down from the top of the screen. He taps on the iMessage and it takes him into the app, where he’s greeted by these words:

**Unknown: movie concept:**  
**sharknado vs. storm from**  
**xmen. she can control the**  
**tornado, but not the sharks**

Storm? Sharknado? Jeremy feels a little scandalized to have read such a nerdy idea with his own two very popular eyes, but then gives it a second thought. He's just tired enough to humor this strange, strange person.

_You: Who is this???_

Jeremy stares at the screen, curiosity mounting. The typing icon pops up and Jeremy eyes it eagerly.

**Unknown:oh shit this isn't rich**  
**Unknown:disregard this text so sorry**  
**Unknown:so fuckin stoned man**

_You: No no it's cool_

Honestly at a loss for words, Jeremy leaves it at that. Just a case of wrong numbers. Jaw popping, he yawns, and hopes the stranger on the other end has a nice night and stays safe. He's only been high a few times and each experience was terribly disorienting. Before he can plug his phone in to charge and will himself to sleep, his phone buzzes again, and he can’t help but read the new text in the thread. Holy shit.

**Unknown: no but like this is**  
**why we have contacts**  
**right bc when u think**  
**about it there are billions**  
**n billions of possible 10**  
**digit combinations so like**  
**memorizing them all would**  
**be entirely futile so here's a**  
**pro tip buddy if u ever go**  
**on a date with someone**  
**immediately put their**  
**number into ur phone bc**  
**ull say oh I'll remember**  
**this or let me write it down**  
**on a napkin but even one**  
**deviation can ruin ur future**  
**together fuck fuck i said I'd**  
**call him n I dunno WHICH**  
**number I got wrong fuck**

**Unknown: so wthat do u think who**  
**would win storm or sharks**

_You: Um. Sorry about ur date,_  
_that's rough. I'm definitely not_  
_Rich, for the record. And I would_  
_guess storm because she_  
_has other powers right? Like_  
_sharks can't stop an xman cmon_

_You: not that I'm into comic books or_  
_anything that's kinda geeky so_  
_I wouldn't really know_

Nice save. Not that he has to worry about upholding his precious reputation with a random stoner person at three A.M. but he's learned not to take chances if the wager involves seeming uncool.

**Unknown: yeah yeah I get ur point but**  
**but have u SEEN sharknado**  
**that shit is wild just imaginin**  
**storm in the middle of**  
**a bunch of fuckin tornados**  
**with angry-ass sharks is**  
**just priceless**

**Unknown: suppose she could just**  
**fry em with lightning**  
**or something**

Jeremy wonders of the constraints of this movie would allow for more X-Men to assist Storm in her battle against the sharknados, and then Jeremy fucking checks himself before he can sound like some loser who gets way too invested in fictional universes.

But. Well. It's a good question, considering it's three am and his cool friends never have to know. He’ll swear up and down that he's over his stupid superhero phase; middle school taught him that if he isn't cool, or if he doesn't at least act like it, he'll never come out on top or make it out of high school alive. So he revamped himself to be the second most-popular guy in school, who’s dating the second most-popular girl, and is best friends with the most popular guy. He doesn't have time to be nerdy or gross.

He is at a low point right now, though. His dad nearly drank himself to death this afternoon, his insomnia will keep him up til sunrise, and he almost watched porn of all things, which is disgusting and embarrassing. What's a few texts in comparison to that? His phone vibrates repeatedly with new texts, and he must've also missed a few while arguing with himself. Fuck it, Jeremy throws caution to the wind and commits to participating in this stupid conversation. It's not like he'll ever see this person in real life; they don't even know each other, so it's all chill.

**Unknown: deep fried sharks**

**Unknown: are sharks edible**

**Unknown: like I know there's shark fin**  
**soup or whatever the fuck**  
**but could storm feed**  
**people with her sharknado**  
**barbecue???**

**Unknown: u still there?**

**Unknown: if not cool chat**

**Unknown: sorry for botherin u**

_You: no no still here!_

_You: just thinking._  
  
**Unknown: oh sweet! so sharks: food**  
**or nah???**

_You: Can't say I've ever eaten_  
_a shark so I don't really_  
_know..._

_You: But waste not want not_  
_right???_

**Unknown: RIGHT so the sharknados**  
**would just be a win win**  
**right bc storm gets to**  
**kick ass and make**  
**seafood**

_You: Right! But also are other_  
_xmen there or is it just_  
_storm by herself???_

_You: not sayin she can't handle_  
_sharknados by herself_  
_but imagine cyclops_

**Unknown: omg dude please**

_You: Trying to blast sharks_  
_out of the air like_

_You: Taking aim and missing the_  
_flying sharks the training_  
_did not prepare him for_  
_this_

**Unknown: AHAHA tryin n failin**  
**to predict the erratic**  
**flight pattern of the**  
**fuckin SHARKS in**  
**a TORNADO**

**Unknown: but would storm be able**  
**to still winds so that he**  
**can take a shot?**

_You: That would be a little_  
_too easy I think. God,_  
_wolverine ALSO trying_  
_to fight a sharknado?_

**Unknown: bro they would launch**  
**him INTO the tornado**  
**to take on the sharks**  
**on their turf**

**Unknown: just let his claws out**  
**and boom sushi**

_You: Wolverine tornado_

_You: Wolvnado_

_You: AAAAAAAAAA_

A smile creeps its way across Jeremy’s tired face. He honestly feels more like himself than he has in forever, which is… shitty, because he knows it can't last. This girl, guy, whatever, will forget about him and move on, because the old Jeremy? Not worth remembering, not at all. God, he shouldn't have screwed everything up so fast, the other guy’s probably just humoring him at this point. Jeremy’s just being annoying and dumb, which is _exactly_ the kind of thing he's carefully avoided for so long. The silence from the other end of the conversation causes his anxiety to claw up his throat, and crush his lungs.

Even worse, what if it's one of his friends just fucking with him? And now they know what a geek he is, and he'll be made fun of and mocked at school because of-

**Unknown: ok ok my high is**  
**wearin off and I**  
**have school tomorrow**

**Unknown: god I'm crykng**

**Unknown: tbh this is so much**  
**better than what rich**  
**n I woulda talked**  
**about for sure**

_You: Talking with you beats_  
_laying awake with all_  
_of my self doubt too_

**Unknown: oh fuck Big Mood**

_You: still gonna try and call rich?_

Fuck fuck fuck that is waaaaay too honest but Jeremy might as well lay all his cards on the table after he's dug himself this deep. However, it settles the question of whether it's his friends or not because there's no way they would've let that slide. Also, he asks about Rich because fuck the rules and he doesn't know anyone named Rich and he's kind of flattered that they apparently have more chemistry over the phone than the stranger and this Rich guy can muster in real life.

**Unknown: yeeeeeaahhh idk**

**Unknown: ill just talk to him in school lol**

**Unknown: he was nice n all**  
**but he was tryin way**  
**too hard to be cool**

**Unknown: aw but he had this**  
**adorable lisp n**  
**he said my shirt**  
**looked like boyfriend**  
**material which**

**Unknown: be still my beating heart**

**Unknown: fuckin love puns**

**Unknown: love the wolvnado**  
**too man ur a genius**

**Unknown: anyway**

**Unknown: names michael if**  
**u wanna add me as**  
**a contact**

**Unknown: u seem like a rad dude**

**Unknown: or dudette**

**Unknown: it's cool either way**

**Unknown: hmu if u want more**  
**stupid nerd rambles**  
**im ur guy**

Jeremy considers the way that this conversation has made him feel thus far. The weight constantly pressing down on his chest has lessened considerably in the last half-hour. But… to his friends, this guy, Michael, would definitely be, like, the epitome of uncool.

That doesn’t feel like it should matter as much as it does. For the first time, Jeremy mulls over what he’s lost, what he’s losing, by becoming popular.

Michael makes him feel a little less like plastic, less like his world revolves around the use of smoke and mirrors, constant posturing and deflection and denial.

Either way it'll be fun and it'll probably make him laugh, which he doesn't do enough anymore. Michael will be the real Jeremy Heere’s only friend. He'll see how long it takes to completely ruin this friendship. He’ll see if he was right in abandoning himself all those years ago.

_You: Jeremy._

_You: Though I usually try to_  
_keep normal hours_  
_so feel free to text me_  
_during school_

**Michael: gasp and compromise**  
**my shitty public school**  
**education????**

_You: Yeah. I'm new to high school_  
_we can struggle together_

**Michael: how do u know I'm**  
**not a middle schooler**  
**huh**

**Michael: makin assumptions**  
**Jeremiah???**

_You: Never said my name_  
_is Jeremiah_

_You:_ _Michelangelo_

**Michael: Yeah well it probably**  
**is and Jeremy is some**  
**sorta nickname**

**Michael: my name is not**  
**Michelangelo**  
**bc my mother loves me**  
**enough to not name me**  
**something shitty like that**

_You: Are you calling master_  
_splinter a horrible parent_

**Michael: fuck no he raised four**  
**beautiful ninja sons**

**Michael: just gave em shitty**  
**renaissance names that**  
**kids have to fuckin shorten**  
**anyway like raph and donny**

**Michael: fuck the renaissance**

**Michael: fuck long names**

**Michael: I'm callin u miah**

_You: Miah?_

_You: Like as in JereMIAH???_

**Michael: bet ya haven't heard that**  
**one yet**

_You: I haven't._

_You: I'll call you Mikey_

**Michael: blease don't**

**Michael: Michael's cool**

_You: ok Michael whatever_  
_you say._

_You: If that's even your real_  
_name_

_You: Enjoy your two hours_  
_of sleep_

**Mikey: roger that miah**

**Mikey: and right back at ya**

**Mikey: I'll prolly text u during**  
**algebra bc math is the time**  
**when I Wabt to Die**  
**and you make me**  
**smile :-)**

_You: Roger that, Michael._

_You: Over and out._

Jeremy falls asleep, but not before dredging up an old memory of his father tucking him in and murmuring over and out against his forehead after telling him goodnight.

oOo

Jeremy’s junior year is well underway, approaching October, when Michael stops texting him.

The loss of contact after two years of steady communication is sudden and jarring, and he kinda feels like he’s lost a part of himself.

If Jake and Chloe notice him moping around, they don’t say anything, and something Michael said surfaces in his mind. The details are fuzzy, so he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls up to one of Michael’s rants about popularity.

**Mikey: tbh the pops are super**  
**untrustworthy idk why youd**  
**bother bein friends with em**  
**miah. All they care about is**  
**their dumb little reputations**  
**and honestly snooooore if i**  
**compared myself to everyone**  
**in MY school constantly id lose**  
**my fuckin mind.**

**Mikey: like there’s this one poor**  
**girl at my school who is absolutely**  
**gorgeous and funny and theres**  
**nothing wrong with her as far as**  
**i know, cosmetically or otherwise**

**Mikey: im gay and i know this bro**

**Mikey: but her friends kinda just**  
**string her along like she’s an**  
**accessory to their clique**

**Mikey: her “bff” puts her down**  
**and she has really low self esteem,**  
**and i can tell her bf doesnt really**  
**love her. Theyre together for the**  
**sake of being together miah**  
**its a sham**

**Mikey: romance is dead miah**  
  
It really hit home because it almost felt like Michael was describing him and his clique, but it’s true. Popularity seems to drain some of the humanity from you, whether you notice or not. Michael was the one thing that made him feel like he wasn’t totally lost, and now, he’s gone.

Jeremy’s friend, arguably his best friend, has left him, just like he feared. Is it something he said? Something he did? He’s tried reaching out a couple of times, but his texts never even get read. Michael is ignoring him.

And Jake and Chloe don’t give a shit, because, well, like Michael said, are they even his friends? Fuck, he doesn’t know any more. Is this what being popular means…? He almost tells Michael who he really is, contemplating begging him to come back and be friends with his sorry ass, but he still has a strain of dignity left. His best friend can’t know that Jeremy’s the kind of person that Michael hates the most.

oOo

Brooke has the decency to tell him that he looks a little down at lunch, but her idea of fixing it involves a trip to Pinkberry and lots of sex, which, normally Jeremy wouldn’t mind, but he’s so not in the mood. He leaves the three other populars, chatting about the upcoming legendary Halloween party, to go buy lunch, even though standing in the lunch line is super tedious and the cafeteria food is nasty and highly caloric. He slips in front of two freshman girls easily, shooting them a quick smile. They melt and turn to each other, tittering nervously, leaving Jeremy with half the wait time in the way overcrowded line.

The guy in front of him gives Jeremy a withering look, before jerking his head back around to face forward. Jeremy, bewildered, attempts to get a read on the wise guy, wondering if he’s seen him around before, if they knew each other. No one would be ballsy enough to criticize one of the populars, right, unless they were popular too? Dark hair, tanned skin, red hoodie. Nothing rings a bell, he can’t put a name to the face, though he’s sure that he’s gone to school with this kid since elementary school, probably. Jeremy chalks it up to jealously and leaves it at that.

He pulls out his phone and leans casually against the wall, being sure not to slouch too much. Under his breath, he hums one of the songs that Michael sent to him on iMessage forever ago, something in a foreign language, while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He doesn’t understand the words, but the tune is super catchy. The kid in front of him tilts his head, and Jeremy side-eyes him suspiciously, wondering if he’s gonna get shamed for his taste in music too. Judging by the sleek-looking over the ear headphones, he’s a music snob. He squints, watching, but the guy just pulls his headphones up over his ears and ignores Jeremy up until he pays for his lunch.

Before going off to eat at a table alone, or in some isolated place in the school, Jeremy assumes, the headphones kid gives him one last reproachful glare.

And, Jeremy, god, Jeremy almost feels guilty. But, like, he can’t help that he’s worked his whole life to be well-liked, and that guys just, what, lazed around all day? If he wants to be popular, step one is to not be rude to the populars, obviously.

oOo

When Jeremy struts into his last period, his eyes zero in on the student who nonverbally trashed him at lunch. Huh. Well, at least he now knows where he’s seen the other before. The headphones kid looks up when he enters just after the bell rings, eyes widening when Jeremey meets his gaze. The kid hastily busies himself with the notebook paper on his desk, and Jeremy smirks. He takes his seat and pulls out his own paper, ready to ace this timed writing- he and Michael had been working on their English together for the past few weeks.

The trick they developed was to spend a small chunk of their time actually planning, like they were taught to do, instead of rushing into the writing itself. The time spent planning is more than made up by how much easier it is to write with an outline in front of you. The teacher calls for silence, then starts the clock. Jeremy folds one sheet of notebook paper into four sections like he and Michael practiced, one for each paragraph, introduction, two body paragraphs, and a conclusion.

He hears the sound of paper folding behind him, and turns to see the headphones kid copying him. He huffs and returns to his own essay before the teacher calls him out, even though he’s cool in her books. Though, he knows that she never counts him late, after all, so she’d probably let this slide too.

Quickly, he looks at the guy again, and Jeremy can just barely make out intro, body, body, and conc scribbled in each of the boxes. How did he-

“Jeremiah Heere, eyes on your own essay, please,” the teacher mumbles, as if embarrassed herself, and Jeremy feels his face heat. His concentration shot, he babbles about what he hopes is a valid answer to the prompt until the dismissal bell rings.

He considers tripping the antisocial headphones kid as he leaves the room, but holds himself back. He won’t stoop that low. Yet. What would Michael say?

oOo

Another week passes with no word from his friend, and Jeremy is beginning to wonder if he imagined the whole thing. He rereads whole chains of text to reassure himself that Michael is real, and he’s out there, somewhere. Why he doesn’t think Jeremy’s worth his time anymore, he can’t guess. Jeremy stops on a picture Michael had sent him of a patch he wanted to put on his jacket, a little UFO with “I want to believe” under it. He hopes Michael bought it. He hopes it looks good on his jacket.

He hopes that Michael will text him back, soon.

oOo

“And then _Madeline_ said to me, ‘you are just _jealous_ , because my hair is longer than yours,’ with that _stupid_ little put on French accent,” Chloe gripes bitterly in their first period together, sitting sideways in her seat with her head turned to the others, filing her nails. They’re miraculously early, so they have plenty of time to chat.

“Wow, how awful-”

“Brooke, that isn’t even the worst part let me finish-”

Jake clears his throat loudly to get their attention. Truth be told Jeremy was totally spacing out, mulling over the pros and cons of sneaking to the arcade after school. “Okay, guys, listen up. We should do the school play,”

Jeremy wrinkles his nose. He’s not completely against the idea, but still. Cool kids don’t do theatre. He vividly remembers getting his head dunked in the toilets in sixth grade for just playing a tree in The Wizard of Oz. Chloe, voice dripping with disgust, echoes his thoughts. “Isn’t that for losers? I’m pretty sure theatre kids are subhuman.”

“I dunno, could be fun…” Brooke offers, squeezing Jeremy’s hand tightly. They bicker back and forth, and he feels himself losing interest, fast. Whatever they decide, he’ll just go along with it, like he always does.

Jeremy, as he’s facing forward, unlike Chloe and Jake, notices the headphones kid slip into the mostly empty room. He looks dejected, like he really doesn’t wanna be here, and Jeremy can’t blame him. The teacher warned them to expect a big test this week, and she’s been drilling them nonstop with calculus nonsense. They lock eyes, and the guy has such an intense look of longing it floors Jeremy. Is that… jealously....? It had to have been, Jeremy assures himself as the kid takes his seat near the front of the room.

He’s close enough, though, that Jeremy can hear him take a shaky breath, like he’s about to cry.

“Hello, Earth to Jeremy?” Chloe snaps, both literally and figuratively, pulling him back into the conversation. “School play or no?”

Jeremy, in his nervousness at being called out, says a little more loudly and defensively than he intended, “that’s kinda gay, isn’t it…?” Luckily, the room is almost empty, and he goes mostly ignored. Only, the headphones kid seems to slump farther down in his seat, like what Jeremy said made his day even worse.

Chloe eyes him, pursing her lips. “It is true that most men in theatre are tragically homosexual, but I like gay people. Overruled.”

Jake grins ear to ear. “So I’ll sign us up at lunch, yeah?”

Brooke and Chloe glance at each other, communicating solely with their expressions as only girls can do. “Yes,” they say in unison, and Jeremy nods along like an obedient puppy.

Class starts, and the exchange gets pushed aside in favor of furiously cramming the properties of the unit circle into his overworked brain.

oOo

Their names go up on the sheet at lunch as promised, and a familiar face comes bounding over to their table.

“Wow, I can’t believe you all are doing the play! It’s gonna be so much fun!” Christine Canigula gushes, and Jeremy notices that Jake’s cheeks are dusted with a bit of pink. Oh, _god_ , they signed up for the play so Jake could get into Christine’s pants. 

“Yeah, we’re really pumped! I love trying new extracurriculars!” Jake tells her animatedly, as Chloe wears her sickly sweet smile. _Oh, god, and now Chloe’s jealous_. They go back and forth for a few minutes until Christine motions to someone behind them, smiling brighter than anyone had a right to. Old butterflies flutter in his stomach for a moment, and with a shock he realizes that he used to have a crush on her. Jeez, he’d completely forgotten about that. Like he’d unconsciously repressed it.

The person comes around to Christine and of course it’s the fucking headphones kid. He looks dead tired, and Jeremy remembers this morning with an uncomfortable clarity. “This is our student tech director, M-”

“Rehearsal starts at 4 PM, don’t be late or I’ll kick your ass,” then to Christine, even though they could all hear him, “I knew we should’ve taken down the sheet earlier.”

Christine pouts. “Don’t be such a grumpy bear.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, looking over the four at the table with disdain, “I’ll be hangin’ with Rich in the lobby if you need me.”

He turns to leave, and Jeremy catches sight of some of the patches on his jacket. He has a pride flag and a little Pac-Man on one side, and what looks like a UFO and a Rise Against Racism patch on the other arm. There are some others that Jeremy can’t tell what they are before he storms off.

It’s only after he gets a second look in his last period that Jeremy realizes he’s seen that UFO patch before.

But. No.

There’s more than one patch like that in the world, surely.

_“I’ll be hangin’ with_ Rich _in the lobby,”_

Jeremy might be losing his mind.

He has to be.

oOo

The next two weeks drag horrendously as Jeremy becomes more and more bogged down with the idea that Michael and the anti-social headphones kid might be one and the same. The draining rehearsals aren’t helping, but at least they keep him away from his dad. He’s starting to get why Jake likes to keep himself busy.

Less time to worry about every little thing.

The Friday before Halloween they get fitted for costumes by one of the crew-members, Richard, who Jeremy assumes is the Rich that Mi- _the headphones kid, fuck_ , and Christine keep referring to. He’s quiet, pretty mousy, doesn’t talk much, but he has mad arm strength from moving heavy set pieces for half of his life.

Okay, okay, if he has a lisp, then Jeremy will know, if the tech director Michael (who Christine calls Mikey teasingly because the headphones kid doesn’t like it (just like _his_ Michael ( _his Michael??_ ) doesn’t like being called Mikey)) is the same Michael that he’s been texting, that he’s come to know. And like. A lot.

It’s less gay than it sounds, he swears.

Isn’t it?

Before he can panic, it’s his turn to grab his costume off the rack and check it out from Rich to make sure he’s got all the pieces accounted for.

“H-how’s it goin’, Rich?” Jeremy says, very smoothly for someone who just realized that they may have homosexual leanings.

“Uh, pretty good.” He says slowly, as if he’s unsure why he’s being talked to.

“This is a neat costume,” Jeremy tries again. _Please say an s word for the love of god_.

“Yeah, pulled it off the rack from Romeo and Juliet.” Rich smiles a little. _Fuck_.

“Romeo and Juliet… by… Shakespeare?” Jeremy forces out. _Say Shakespeare. Do it_.

“Yeah.” _FUCK_.

“Okay talk to you later,” Jeremy bites out, taking his costume to try it on. It fits well, and stares at himself in the mirror for a while, checking out the different angles. It definitely looks period, but it’s been ripped to shreds and spray painted to fit with the added zombie theme. He looks moronic. Everything he does is stupid and futile. He should just kill-

“You good?” Rich knocks on the door, and Jeremy flushes with shame. Did he really almost…?

“Yeah, and, uh, it works.” Before he can second guess himself again, he tacks on, “actually, it looks really good. Can I borrow it for Jake’s party tomorrow?”

Rich is silent for a moment. “You know, normally we don’t allow that kind of thing…”

“Please?” Jeremy adds as a desperate measure. He neglected to buy a costume because he actually planned on skipping out on this one, as horrible as he’s felt lately, but he needs a good drinking binge.

“Okay, fine. But if it gets damaged-”

“Michael will probably kick my ass,” Jeremy finishes, and Rich snorts.

“True that. And hey, from what I’ve seen, you aren’t as bad as the others, so… make good choices, please. And keep an eye on things- Jake’s parties, I hear, get pretty out of control.”

Jeremy blinks. Once. Twice. “Okay. I- uh- thanks, man.”

“Change back and you’re free to go, Jeremy.” Rich says, and Jeremy obeys, mind clouded by the genuine concern in Rich’s voice.

He hangs the costume back on the hanger, exiting the dressing room with it and grabbing his stuff. Rich waves to him as he leaves, and Jeremy waves back, still stunned by the fact that someone he’s never given the time of day to might care about his well-being. He can’t help but glance up to the sound-booth where Michael sits, watching and adjusting lights and sound and all sorts of things so they can rehearse.

He knows Michael can’t really see him well from up there, but Jeremy’s breath catches in his throat nonetheless and he rushes out of the auditorium because. Because.

_Rich has a lisp._

oOo

At three AM the next morning, on Halloween, he texts Michael one last time, apologizing for everything he’s seen Jeremy do over the years, for giving into peer pressure, for putting so much stock in being popular and not enough into being a good person. It’s almost an incoherent mess, and Jeremy immediately regrets pouring his heart out after hitting send, but the last thing he sees before he falls asleep is _Read at 3:43 A.M_.

oOo

Jeremy doesn’t wake up until noon. Groaning, he reaches for his phone only to find that Michael hadn’t texted back, which means that Michael, _his_ Michael, the headphones kid, really wants nothing to do with him. Who can blame Michael, really? Jeremy isn’t shitty because he’s popular or unpopular; he’s shitty because that’s who he is as a person, awful and just generally unlovable. No matter what he does, no one will ever truly like him. Well, Rich seems to think he’s okay, but that won’t last. He’ll let Rich down, too.

He spends the day in a haze, eating very little and doing his best to avoid his dad, staying in his room and listening to a custom playlist Michael made for him in late August.

At 6, Jeremy deems it an appropriate time to start prepping for the party, only pausing to tell his dad he’s going out to get shitfaced because he’s depressed.

His dad doesn’t bat an eye, waving him off.

The drive to Jake’s house is short and silent. Jeremy doesn’t bother plugging in his phone to the stereo; he’s done dealing with his Michael dilemma for the day. He will turn his brain off and have a good time.

He will have a good time.

When he gets there, the party is just starting up, but everyone who’s anyone is already milling about with a red solo cup in their hands. Brooke intercepts him as soon as he gets two feet past the door, posing for him in her “sexy dog” costume. It’s certainly _original_ , but he isn’t enough of an asshole to put her down ( _like Michael says they do to her, constantly)_ and raves about her creativity. She blushes, giggles, and compliments him right back, calling his costume Eli-zombie-than. He absentmindedly downs a drink as they wander around arm in arm, then another. His head is swimming, but it’s not enough, and he looks at Brooke as she twirls her hair at another guy dressed as a sexy fireman.

She really is a beautiful girl, and he’s lucky to be here with her. But.

Michael's right.

He doesn’t love her.

Leading her on is rude, isn’t it? He’s dating her just to date her. She deserves better.

Before he can say anything, Chloe toddles over with some more drinks, and Jeremy means _toddle_. She’s dressed as a giant baby, complete with a bottle that looks to be filled with alcohol.

“ _Heeey_ , Jeremy. Doesn’t Brooke look ridiculous?” The brunette giggles, and Brooke laughs along quietly, accepting whatever concoction that Chloe has passed to her. He does the same, bar the laughter, and she notices. “Aw, lighten up. It’s a party!”

At her shout, the crowd whoops back in response, swaying to the dime-a-dozen song blaring through Jake’s surround speakers. Jeremy feels out of place. He doesn’t belong here. Something feels wrong. This is wrong.

_Isn’t this what you wanted? To be popular?_

Jeremy makes a beeline for the bathroom, leaving Brooke and Chloe confused in his wake.

There’s no line yet, and for that he’s thankful, so he easily slips inside and locks the door behind him. He sets his drink on the bathroom counter after taking a long pull, shivering at the burn. Lord, Chloe must be trying to poison him. Head in his hands, he rests on the edge of the bathtub, glad for the breather, until he feels something like a claw at his back.

Jeremy lets out an undignified screech and rockets up, wide eyes boring into the tub to see what monster is about to eat him. However, the thing that sits up and eyes him merrily is much worse than any monster he could have conjured in his head. It’s _Michael_.

“Hey. Got your text,” he says softly, so unlike his tech director voice that Jeremy short-circuits for a moment. That’s the voice of his friend that stayed up with him on nights that he couldn’t sleep, showed him song after song when he needed a distraction, helped him with anything he needed, who was there for him when no one else seemed to be.

“Why didn’t you text back?” Jeremy complains, still mildly offended by the jumpscare. Michael’s smile slips away, replaced by that same sad look he got whenever he would catch Jeremy’s eyes in Pre-Calc.

“Eh. Thought this might be better face to face.” He shrugs. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Wh-why did you stop talking to me?” Jeremy asks, and, well, it sounds more like an accusation, but he’s hurt and drunk and Michael’s taking this entirely too calmly.

Michael’s eyes harden. “Well, I found out you were one of the assholes at my school I complain about a lot, so there’s that.” Jeremy bristles, and Michael holds both of his hands out in front of him. “Before you get too upset, just know that I had plenty of trouble dealing with that myself. I stopped texting you to give real life you a chance, but you did not disappoint. Or, well, you did.”

“What do you-”

“See, when you text, you put up this air of insecurity, to make yourself seem vulnerable, yeah? So when I found out it was you, I started watching, listening to you at school, to see which one of you was real. I was convinced,” Michael stops to laugh, and it sounds watery, and hollow, “that you and Rich conspired against me, you would get me to let my guard down and dump pig’s blood on me at prom or something, and he would get to sit at the popular table and flirt with _the_ Jake Dillinger because that is all _you_ -” Jeremy flinches as Michael stands in the bathtub, “ _ever_ seem to care about, social status, and who knows _who_ , and all that _shit_.”

Michael pauses, but Jeremy’s throat has closed up, and he can’t seem to get any words out.

Michael takes a deep breath and says, quietly, “I’ve gone my whole life without worrying about what other people think of my for my own sake, because I’ll never be anyone but myself. I can’t transform myself into somebody else cause it’ll make me a few friends.”

“I-I-” Jeremy stutters, and Michael steps over the rim of the bathtub, gaze downcast. Jeremy feels something bubbling in his gut but he can’t quite name it.

“Then I got your text this morning, when you realized it was me. I didn’t expect for that to happen. And now, watching you shift all uneasily from foot to foot... That’s the Jeremy I was talking to. That’s… Miah.” Michael mumbles, and Jeremy can see that his ears have gone a bit red. But. But, no, this Jeremy is awful, and embarrassing, and terrible.

It’s anger. Jeremy realizes that it’s anger that he’s overcome with, and in his drunken state he doesn’t care if it’s misplaced anger but he _hates_ himself as he is right now, as he was before he was popular, and if _Michael likes that side of him_ then it must be for some reason other than genuine friendship…

He’s still _jealous_.

Of _course_.

They can be friends as long as Jeremy is as uncool as Michael, but....

Michael shuffles closer, but Jeremy takes two steps back, glaring at his so-called friend. “I thought you actually cared about me,” Jeremy scoffs, pointing a finger at the other’s black and green sweater, “but you just want me to be as sad and pathetic as you are- no, even _more pathetic_ \- so that you can feel _better_ about yourself!”

Michael’s jaw drops. “Miah, that’s-”

“Don’t _call_ me that,” Jeremy spits out, backing up even more and reaching for his drink again. “I came to this party to forget you. _All I have_ is my popularity. Without it, I’m _nothing_ , I would have _no one_.”

“You would have me,” Michael insists, coming around to block the door as Jeremy stumbles to it.

“Oh, and what a _consolation_ that is. You’re probably _just_ as desperate as _anybody_ to be popular, but, newsflash, Michael, it’s probably not gonna happen. Not now, at least.” Jeremy tries to push past him, but Michael won’t budge.

“No, let’s talk about this, _please_ -”

“I don’t wanna talk anymore, you’re just trying to drag me down with you!” Jeremy shouts, frustrated. He’s tired, and upset, and he wants to _go home_.

“I promise I-I-I genuinely care about you, I-”

Jeremy looks Michael right in the eyes, and cuts him off, saying lowly, “I don’t need you. Out of my way, _loser_.”

It’s hard to tell with the glasses, and the blurry vision, but he’s pretty sure Michael’s eyes glisten as he moves aside. Jeremy throws open the door and leaves right then and there, getting behind the wheel before letting himself crumble.

He somehow makes it home and crashes on the couch, too exhausted to make it to his room.

 

oOo

 

Jeremy has an entire Sunday to regret his poor life choices.

He has a killer hangover, to start, and his phone is backlogged with a bunch of “ _where r u_ ” texts from his friends and girlfriend.

Oh.

_Ex_ -girlfriend.

Apparently she and Chloe hooked up last night, which Chloe texted him cheerfully, complete with a string of emojis. Jake also got turned down by Christine, which sucks, because Jeremy won’t hear the end of it. He was supposed to be the wing-man. _Fuck_.

And what was he doing instead?

Completely and utterly wrecking the only real friendship he’s ever had in his entire life.

Ah. Right.

So everything is terrible.

He messily staggers to the kitchen and starts gathering the ingredients for one of his most potent hangover cures so that he can think past the pounding in his head for two seconds and see if he can pull his life back together.

oOo

Spoiler: he can’t.

In his first period, Jake won’t even speak to him, and Brooke and Chloe are chatting about getting their nails done together after school so that they match. Michael drifts in and pointedly ignores him, keeping his back to Jeremy at all times.

At lunch, he can’t bring himself to sit at the popular table, and he doesn’t wanna be the nerd who asks around for places to eat, so he treks to the library and reads about marine biology in the corner until the bell rings.

And in his last period with Michael, he can feel the guy glaring daggers into the back of his head. Unable to turn around and face him just yet, he tries and fails to ignore the sensation. He drops out of the play, avoids everyone he can, and begins his downward spiral into misery.

They all play this game well into November, and then they let out for fall break.

Jeremy’s never been more miserable.

oOo

He starts getting into the habit of texting Michael and then deleting every single word before he can send him anything. Michael deserves better than that. All of the apologies in the world won’t fix what he’s done. In the last few days of the week-long break he finds that writing things down on paper and crumpling them up is much more therapeutic.

Jeremy tells himself that he’ll burn every single one when he gets the chance.

oOo

In December, his letters start waxing mournfully poetic. His writing has improved a lot, he would say, lamenting his life and the way he’s treated people. He has a little wastebasket full of the discarded papers, and he’s actually uncrumpled some to read them again. Oh, this one’s good; It talks about how different things would be if he could ever be honest with himself.

oOo

It gets colder, and his feelings do too. No one talks to him, still, so all he’s got is himself, and bouncing a proverbial ball against the wall of his own mind gets tiresome. He writes about how he wishes he could relive his life, befriend Michael earlier. He wants his old consoles back. He should get that Pac-Man tattoo he’s always wanted. He should kill himself to spare the world anymore of his spectacular failures. Etcetera, etcetera. He never does get around to burning the letters. Maybe he can use them as a suicide note novella.

oOo

Christmastime blows in, and Jeremy doesn't expect much. He’s not feeling too merry, and he doubts his dad is either.

But on the last day before school lets out- a day spent cleaning the costume closets with Rich, because who actually goes to class the day before break- he comes home to find the living room decked out to the extreme, the old Heere Christmas tree salvaged from the attic and standing proudly in the corner, glittering with light-up icicles and tinsel.

His dad is in his recliner, and he’s… wearing pants. He looks haggard, but sober, or as sober as Jeremy has seen him in years. The little table next to his chair, along with the fake felt snow, holds a handful of crumpled up papers. How had he not noticed those before…?

They lock eyes, and his dad cracks a small smile. He was taking out the trash, he was snooping, he’ll admit, but when he read what Jeremy was writing about himself, how he was feeling… they have a conversation. A real conversation.

They’re both sorry for letting each other slip so far down the rabbit hole. His dad promises to try harder.

Jeremy does, too.

oOo

The second semester of junior year feels like a fresh start for Jeremy. He threw out all of his stupid skinny jeans and lame graphic tees. He switched from Twitter to Tumblr, where he now runs his very own video gaming blog about the retro systems he got for Christmas. He talks to a local tattoo artist and his dad about his Pac-Man tattoo, and he almost gets it on his ass but thinks better of it, proudly bearing the bright yellow character on his arm.

The two of them also go to counseling, which is super. His dad’s been so much better, happier, and, well, Jeremy has been, too.

There’s only one thing left for him to take care of, really, so he walks into first period with a confidence he never had when he was popular.

If his old friends notice his style change- a navy cardigan (soft, so soft) over a crazy striped shirt, and loose-fitting, comfortable jeans- they don’t say anything. That’s alright. He doesn’t need them to. Michael is already in his seat, furiously jabbing at the buttons of a Game Boy Advanced.

Jeremy taps the desk, and Michael looks up, doing a barely perceptible double take. He tilts his head towards the door, to the hallway, and Michael glowers.

“Aren’t you worried what your friends will think?” he whispers, snapping his handheld shut.

“Nope,” Jeremy whispers back, playfully, but then he gets serious. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“Because I thought this would be better face to face,” Jeremy eyes Michael hopefully, and Michael huffs as he slides out of his seat.

“We only have a few minutes,” Michael warns, and then follows Jeremy out of the classroom door. He leans heavily against the lockers, shoulders, raised, obviously defensive.

Jeremy steels himself. “I know just saying I’m sorry won’t be enough-”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Michael mutters darkly, and Jeremy takes a second to mull over what Michael might have done after he left him in that bathroom. Guilt weighs in his stomach like lead, but his counselor told him that he could do this.

“You didn’t deserve to hear any of that. I was drunk, I was angry- at myself, not you- and that doesn’t excuse my actions but you need to know that I didn't mean it all all, Michael. You are one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, you know? So, if you hate me, that’s fair, but don’t ever hate yourself. Because you are wonderful and amazing and I was _so_ wrong about you.”

Michael nods along until Jeremy mentions the part about hating himself. He sighs through his nose, slowly. “I just wanted to help. You were in a bad place with those people, Miah. It messed with your head.”

Jeremy warms at his old nickname. “Yeah. I’ve been talking with my counselor about improving my self image, and finding intrinsic motivation or whatever. You know, stop relying on other people to validate me.”

Michael tilts his head, smiling a little. “That’s great, bro.”

“My dad, too. He’s been getting better.” Michael knows all about Jeremy’s home life from their texting.

“Oh, that’s _hella_!” He finally grins, and reaches for Jeremy almost instinctively. Then, he draws back, laughing nervously. “Sorry, uh, big family. Lots of huggers.”

Jeremy’s cheeks warm, but he doesn’t care. He did a lot of self-exploration in those letters, and he’s come to accept that he’s crushing hard on Michael. It's only been, what, two years? He thinks that his best friend is entitled to a hug or two. “I don’t mind. So… are we friends again?”

“Uh, are Sev Elev slushies the shit?”

“Um… yes?” Jeremy answers hesitantly, and Michael sweeps him into that hug. Jeremy can tell that Michael is a very practiced hugger. He’s so warm, and nice, and he smells like pot and fabric freshener. Which is. Less nice. But still. Michael burrows his face into the So Soft cardigan, and Jeremy gets serious points for wearing that today because Michael seems to appreciate the Softness.

“Bro,” Michael mumbles into his shoulder, “this is so soft. What material is this?”

Jeremy pauses, comfortably settling his head on top of Michael’s. A few other students give them weird looks but who gives a shit Michael’s really warm and he’s complimenting the cardigan. He's waited. Two whole years. “I don’t really know. I can check the tag if you-”

“It feels like boyfriend material to me,” Michael interrupts, barely audible.

“Oh,” Jeremy says, flustered. “If you think so.”

“I do.”

They still have a lot of work to do to make things right again, but Jeremy can’t be worried about what may be when he’s cradling his future in his arms.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> stupid cheesy ending but boyf riends happened so who cares yo


End file.
